


Empty nests and red ledgers

by LadyIrina



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bamf assassins, Clintasha all the way, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Unreliable Narrator, Whump, so much whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-02-16 05:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13047543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina
Summary: Set after the attack on New York, where Clint struggles hard to deal with what happened and Natasha can't stop something horrible from happening.But she can get a blood-soaked revenge and come to terms with something she has been denying for years!Clint has only one mission: keep her alive. At any cost.





	1. Chapter 1

Snow was covering the ground. The temperature was far below zero and continued to drop. By nightfall, it would probably be fatal to spend the night out in the open. Nothing like a Russian winter!

Clint made a frustrated sound between clenched teeth while pressing even harder against the wound in an effort to minimize the bleeding. His mind was racing both with what had happened and what he needed to do.  
First, deal with the bleeding. Second, avoid detection, and finally; find shelter. Those three would become his primary objectives, everything else would have to wait.

He used his free hand to pat over the pockets on his jacket, the one he'd stolen from a guard, and felt a flicker of relief when he encountered the familiar lump of a field bandage.  
About damn time he'd have something other than bad luck!  
Clint pulled out the small package and wasted no time in applying it.

It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do, especially now as he heard people shouting nearby. Hydra was starting to re-group and would soon be looking for the ones responsible for blowing up their secret underground base.  
He glanced down at his first-aid work, trying to ignore all the blood staining the snow, and steeled himself for the pain that would come when he moved.  
His body was more than a little battered and bruised.

Leaning forward, Hawkeye gently slid his arms underneath the limp body and lifted her up as he struggled to his feet. Her blood had already soaked his clothes and her face was dangerously pale.  
"Don't you die on me, Nat," Clint said. "Don't you goddamn dare."  
He hoisted her closer to his chest, scanned their surroundings, chose a direction and started walking into the wilderness.

 

_4 Months ago_

__

__

_After the New York Incident, that's what they called it, he was different. Natasha didn't push, didn't intrude on his pain, but stalked him silently as a second shadow.  
To the others, Clint Barton seemed back to normal, but she knew better._

_She knew him._

_To her it was too obvious, the sleepless nights and self-doubt he suffered. How he tended every funeral. The loss of Coulson, whose name they never spoke out loud anymore._  
_Clint was struggling and she didn't know what to do or the right words to say._  
_She was never any good at this._  
_So she hovered nearby and hoped he knew. He had always been able to read her._

_But time passed and he never said a single word about it; about Loki and the thoughts that troubled him, and too soon every-day-life kicked in and she was ordered out on missions._  
_Just because they had thwarted the plans of one unearthly terrorist didn't mean the local ones packed up their game as well._  
_Natasha felt uneasy about leaving Clint when he felt this... wrong, but orders were orders._

_The mission went without a hitch. She wasn't gone longer than two weeks before she was back at SHIELD HQ._  
_Not even pausing to dispose of her traveling bag, the Black Widow headed straight for the training room and felt a strange sense of relief to find him there._

_Clint still had dark smudges from sleep deprivation under his eyes, but his aim was as flawless as ever._  
_He greeted her and welcomed her back in a voice that would have sounded cheerful to anyone but her._  
_Even his smile was wrong._  
_Vulnerable._

_Frowning, Natasha dropped her bag to the floor, walked into the training room and beat the crap out of him during a sparring match._

_Sweat-soaked and breathless, they laid shoulder to shoulder on the floor and this time his laughter rang true._

_Natasha exhaled through her smile and her hand found his._

_His fingers squeezed hers gently._

_After that, she had relaxed. That was her biggest mistake._

_She agreed to more missions, was relieved to see Clint embark on his first since his suspension during the Loki-investigation, and she even joined up with Captain America (“Steve, my name is Steve, okay?”) on a stint in Texas._  
_If only Coulson's voice would sound in her ear-piece, Natasha could almost believe things were back to normal._

_Talking and sparring with Clint, there were moments when her skin would hum with the sensation that something about him was still off, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it._

_It was only when she came back from Vienna and returned to a video showing his death in combat that she could name it: Clint had grown careless.  
She'd always been better in close-combat, but lately she'd found him off-guard and distracted more than once and that could get you killed._

_Natasha watched and re-watched the footage for hours._

_He'd been on a mission in Egypt which had gone horribly wrong. Information had leaked somehow and his cover had been blown, leaving Clint to fight his way to the airport alone. No backup. No partner. Alone._  
_She would pause the video right before the first bullet hit his chest, then slow-pace the footage forward to see how its impact against his bulletproof vest send him stumbling backwards, how more bullets followed, his continued stumbling backwards and straight into the massive explosion behind him._  
_Her lips pursed in an effort to clamp down on the pain every time Natasha saw the flames engulf Clint and how his shape became a black shadow that soon disappeared in the inferno. Yet, she forced herself to watch._

_The Black Widow kept watching until she saw what she wanted to see._  
_A face._  
_The face of the man who had murdered her partner._  
_He could barely be seen in the background, his hand on a remote device to trigger the bomb, and while her sight had never been as sharp as Clint's, Natasha was eventually able to identify her prey._

_She had let Clint down by not having his back when he needed it, both in battle and in his despair, but she was sure as hell going to avenge him!  
And then... she would mourn._

**Present time**

At first Clint couldn't quite identify the odd sound, but he eventually realized it was his teeth clattering together from the cold. He paused, leaned his shoulder against a tree to maintain his balance while studying Natasha's face.  
If possible, she seemed to have grown even paler than before. Almost grey.  
The only thing that revealed she was still alive was the tiny puff of white that appeared with her every exhale. They were running out of time...

Clint shook off the sleepiness that threatened to make him sit down and rest for a while. If he stopped, if he closed his eyes, they'd both die.  
Hoisting Natasha a little to adjust his grip once more, he forced his feet to carry him on.

The army boots he'd stolen along with the jacket were too small and would probably have made his feet hurt if he still had any sensation in them.  
His torn track pants weren't exactly made for the cold either.  
It was even getting hard to breathe. Drawing the cold air into his lungs sent sharp jabs of pain through him.  
Luckily Natasha had come dressed for the notorious Russian weather, but her blood-loss was draining her of heat as fast as Clint's lack of winter clothing.

Something brushed by his cheek and Hawkeye glanced up.  
Snow.  
It was starting to snow and by the look of the heavy grey skies it was going to keep snowing for quite a while. His tracks would be hidden underneath the white blanket, but...  
Clenching his jaw hard to keep his teeth from clattering, Clint trudged on.  
If he didn't find shelter soon, he'd have to dig a snow cave if they were to have the tiniest hope of surviving the night and a nagging voice at the back of his head wondered if he would have the strength.

An agonizingly long while later, he stumbled and clutched Natasha protectively closer as he crashed to his knees in the deep snow.  
Closing his eyes briefly, Clint ordered himself to get up.

His body wouldn't obey.

He was so tired... So very tired... And so cold...  
Despair began clawing at the edges of his mind, but to give in was giving up, so he slowly opened his eyes and tried to get up again.

Finally movement. He managed to get one leg forward, balanced their combined weight on it, and pushed himself up. Clint swayed and nearly fell again. Pure stubbornness kept him on his feet and as if rewarding him for his effort, his keen eyesight caught sight of 'something' ahead. Something barely visible in the increasingly thicker snow-fall.  
His heart started to pound but his legs found new strength. Clint began fighting his way through the snow drifts, towards the 'something', and breathed a laugh when he found himself standing in front of a small cabin half-hidden under the snow.

The door resisted his first attempt at opening it, balancing Natasha in his arms didn't make it easier either, but eventually a firm bump with his shoulder made it open and Clint could finally step inside from what was now turning into a blizzard.

A quick scan of the room revealed that it had probably been abandoned for some time, but was in surprisingly good shape. It was dusty, but with little clutter, a small living room with a fireplace combined with a kitchen nook in one end and a small bed in the other.  
He gently lowered Natasha onto the bed, ignoring the painful jolts shooting up his arms after being locked in the same position for what was probably hours, and brushed away a lock of red hair from her pale face.

 

"Nat?"  
No reaction. He didn't really expect one either, but he had to try.  
He covered Natasha with the blankets lying on the chair next to the bed, started up the fireplace with wood which had luckily been left to dry inside the cabin, checked the contents of the two cabinets in the kitchen nook and placed his few weapons next to the door and the small window by the tiny kitchen table.

Tossing a few more logs onto the fire, now a decent blaze, Clint returned to Natasha. He lifted the blankets and dared to take a peek at the bandage covering the gunshot wound. There had been no exit wound so it meant the bullet was still in there, but he wasn't too sure he could risk digging around for it.  
If the bullet had struck her collar bone, it might have shattered.  
Who knew what kind of injuries the bullet had caused…  
So far the bandage had limited the bleeding by acting like a tourniquet, in addition to how the cold had slowed down her heart and consequently her blood-flow as well.  
He was just worried about 'how' cold she was.  
Preventing her from bleeding to death was a moot point if he allowed her to freeze to death.

 

Clint picked up the hand closest to him, removed the glove, and began massaging her cold limb. Slowly working his way up her arm, he stopped by the shoulder and switched to her other hand. After that had received the same treatment, Clint moved on the removing her boots and doing the same to her feet, calves, up to her thighs, staying mindful of all her other injuries.

By the time he was done, the room was warming up and he was starting to recognize his own body's complaints.  
Still, he made sure to throw more logs on the fire, adjusted the weapons and checked that the door and window were securely shut, before he slid under the blankets and pulled Natasha close against himself.

Just a few minutes, Clint told himself as his eyes drifted shut. Just a few minutes...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat goes hunting, Clint takes stock.

_3 months ago_

 

_"You can't be sure," Fury stated, staring out the window with his arms behind his back._

_The Black Widow didn't hesitate. "I'm sure."_

_Glancing back at her, Fury's one eye scanned her face and found nothing. "He was your partner for years, Romanov. You want revenge, I get that. But you're basing everything on a blurry glimpse of a face on a crappy video feed. That kinda decision is gonna get your ass killed too!"_

_This time Natasha felt her lips tighten with contempt and she squared her shoulders in an effort to control herself. "Lind is the one behind the leak."_

_Fury turned to face her with a sigh. "There is nothing to connect a Swedish terrorist with what happened in Egypt, Agent Romanov. Unfortunately our traitor used his cyanide capsule before he could give us a name, but nothing points towards Lind."_

_"It's him," the Black Widow insisted in a toneless voice._

_Fury gave a little shake of his head. "Maybe you need a little time off, Agent. Mourn. Get your shit back together. First Coulson, now Barton... Anyone would need a little down time after that."_

_She twitched, about to argue the absurd statement, but gave a little nod instead. "Understood."_

_Turning on her heel, Natasha marched towards the door and only paused when Fury called out her name.  
"I'm sorry," Fury said, almost kindly, "about Barton. He was a good soldier."_

_She glanced back at him over her shoulder. "Yes. He was."  
The Black Widow stalked out, hands clenched and jaw set._

 

_She wondered for half a second if Fury was surprised when she took off in the stolen jet, but probably not overly so as he sent no birds to chase her._  
 _Maybe he knew it would be futile._  
_Natasha would not stop before Clint's killer was dead and his blood was dripping from her ledger._

_It took her two days to reach Egypt and with still no sign of a SHIELD tail, that meant two things. One, Fury really didn't intend to stop her. Two, she was on her own._   
_That was okay though, as with Hawkeye dead she'd always be on her own from now on._

_Sneaking into Cairo, she spent the first day gathering intel and supplies, before she started getting ready for real._

_Disguised as just another harmless woman making her way to the market, Natasha was able to walk straight up to the door._   
_No one inside was prepared for a petite woman to kick in the door and then proceed to kick their asses._   
_It was a good sensation to feel bones breaking under her Black Widow caresses and she savored the sound of blood splattering against the walls as she steadily made her way through the group of men trying to defend the gawping man in the back._

_By the time she reached him, the man, a renowned arms-dealer, was sitting on the floor with a defensive hand reached out in front of him as he said prayer after prayer to protect him from the she-devil._   
_Needless to say the prayers didn't work._   
_He told her what she needed to know and then he died._

 

_Following Lind's trail through Europe, while leaving a blood-soaked one behind herself, Natasha still couldn't move fast enough to out-run the suffocating feeling of guilt._   
_She'd let him down._   
_Clint had been winged by Loki. She'd seen it and done nothing. She'd let him fall to his death._

_In all the years she'd known him, Natasha had never seen Clint sloppy in his work. He trained his skill harder than any man or woman she'd met._   
_He wanted, no, needed to be the best._   
_Maybe that's why she and Clint matched so well: they both had more psychological baggage than the rest of SHIELD combined. And that was saying something._

_Still, the more she thought about it, the more she remembered his slowed reflexes and dulled eyes._

_Natasha felt a moment of bitterness at Clint. He should have known better than to rely on her to fix it._   
_The Black Widow didn't fix things. Ever. She was usually the one who broke them if something needed breaking._

_Snapping out of her gloomy thoughts, Natasha focused on her reflection in the bath room mirror._

_Her latest clue had brought her to Munich and to her current location, a seedy motel.  
Lind had been spotted here a mere week ago. _

_A quick change of clothes and dying her hair black (Clint always hated when she did that) made her ready for the hunt.  
SHIELD’s dossiers on suspect characters all over the world was unparalleled and Natasha's excellent memory had it all stored, making it almost easy to work her way up the food chain to the king rat; even as the criminal underworld was growing wary due to her activities._

_One hit got a bit messier than usual due to her frustration when Natasha learned Lind had left the day before.  
And, like she feared he would, after Munich; Lind simply disappeared._

_In the past, Natasha would merely have hunkered down and abided her time. She might not have been as patient as Clint, crouching and unmoving for hours upon hours on his perches, but sometimes there was nothing else to do.  
The Black Widow was howling for blood and would not be sated before she'd bled Lind dry._

**Present time ******

Clint woke up with the mother of all headaches.  
For a split second, he wondered how much he'd drunk the previous night before he remembered everything and his eyes shot open.

There was not a sound in the cabin other than the crackling in the fireplace so he moved up on his elbow to gaze down at the still unconscious Natasha.  
"Nat?" He whispered, petting her pale cheek.

She made a sleepy sound, barely opening her eyes. "Clint...?"

Somehow he found a smile. "Hey..."

"Where...?" Natasha slurred, eyes closing.

Clint brushed away a lock of red hair. "Still in enemy territory. It's okay. You're gonna be okay."

Natasha frowned, but slowly drifted off as she couldn't fight it any longer.

Cursing softly, he reached for her pulse point on her neck and found a weak, but steady beat.  
Clint exhaled with relief. He then placed the back of his hand against her skin to check her temperature, but was unable to determine anything as he felt more than a little cold himself.

Crawling out from under the blankets took an extreme amount of will-power. He left behind the warmth and was keenly aware how his own body had locked up after the strain he'd put it through, yet Clint forced himself over to the fireplace and threw more logs on.  
He held his hands out towards the flames and glanced over at Natasha again.

She was in a pretty bad shape and in need of some decent doctoring. He was more than a little worried about her blood loss, even if she seemed to have stabilized now.

 

A steady throb of pain kept shooting up from his feet and Clint debated whether he should remove his boots or not. If he did, he was worried he wouldn't be able to get them back on.

Clint hobbled over to the kitchen nook. He peered out the window but saw no sign of life outside in the now raging blizzard. The conditions that had nearly killed them this morning were now providing shelter against their pursuers. How was that for irony?  
Hawkeye huffed a laugh before making his way back to the fireplace again. He crouched down in front of it, absorbing the heat and wondering what to do next.

Natasha had made it clear that they were on their own. SHIELD wouldn't be coming to their rescue.

Clint closed his eyes against the headache and a chill running down his spine before straightening. If he owned a cabin in the ass-crack of nowhere, he'd make damn sure to keep a radio handy. Right?

Scrounging around, he found some clothes to replace the ones he was wearing. The boots did now come off to reveal swollen and bloodied feet, but there was a certain lukewarm heat in the room and Clint sighed with relief as he could wiggle his toes in freedom.  
He replaced his torn and bloodied track pants with a pair of green cargo pants, removed his jacket to reveal his bruised torso and pulled on a grey t-shirt. A heavy grey sweater followed and while the clothes were a size or five too small for Clint around the biceps, he felt a little better.

Unfortunately, no matter how thorough he looked, there was no radio.

 

A faint sound made Clint spin around and he shuffled over as fast as he could at the sight of Natasha squirming slightly with a pained sound.  
Sitting down next to her, he took her hand in one of his and petted her cheek again with the other. "Nat?"

Another faint sound of pain.

Clint leaned forward, desperately scanning her face. "Natasha..."

Finally her eyelashes fluttered and she was gazing at him with feverish eyes. She frowned slightly, both with pain and confusion.

Trying for a smile, Clint squeezed her hand. "You're gonna be fine, okay?"

Natasha made an unhappy sound. Her eyes then drifted shut again and her head lolled to one side.

He felt a stab of panic and quickly reached out to feel for her pulse. Just unconscious again.  
Hawkeye choked down his relief before he tucked the blankets around her and place his own jacket over her.

So, they were in the middle of nowhere, with no radio and Nat was hurt bad.  
-What is your next move, Barton?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little slow-paced, but hoping for two updates a week, so... yeah... Let me know what you think! A writer needs her comment-fuel! ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha discovers the location of Lind, while Clint discovers they may not be alone anymore...

_2 days ago_

_It figured that every bad thing in her life came back to Mother Russia._

_Natasha adjusted the hood on her parka against the cold wind, trying to reign in her impatience before she revealed her presence to the guards outside the massive, square building she intended to infiltrate.  
She waited a few more minutes before she made her way down towards the building._

_It wasn't more than a week ago since she'd chased her then current target through a forest in Switzerland before pinning him to a tree with several sharp objects, demanding an answer to her question every time something pierced his flesh.  
"Where is he? Where is Lind?"_

_The answer was a Hydra fortress deep in the belly of Russia and she didn't hesitate._

_Natasha would kick open the gates of Hell for her revenge by now. She had come too far to turn back._

_Clint's ghost would haunt her forever, like so many of her other victims, if she didn't avenge his death.  
And she owed him peace, even if she couldn't give him that in life._

_Natasha slowly pulled out her gun, lifted it into a ready position, pressed her back against the brick wall and carefully turned the corner to head for the backdoor._

_-_

_The Hydra soldiers were crawling everywhere, like ants, and while she'd love to see their blood flow; they were not her primary target. And Lind had escaped her grasp too many times already!_

_Making her way through air vents, climbing ceiling pipes and once even slid under the floor, Natasha searched for Lind with a growing frustration inside her._

_When her efforts remained fruitless and she was about to snatch one of the soldiers for information, she finally FINALLY caught a break._  
_Or, more precisely,; she caught a piece of rumor between two sentinels talking, clearly bored at work.  
Lind would arrive in seven hours to check on The Prisoner._

_So, Natasha found the Interrogation Room, curled up in a corner of the ceiling, a lump of black with a splotch of red, and waited for the fly to enter her net._

-

**Present time**

Outside the cabin, the blizzard was howling and it forced Clint to settle down on a chair, between Natasha on the bed and the roaring fireplace.  
He'd heated up some soup, but had little appetite himself and Natasha would not wake to eat any at all.

Clint spent the day checking Natasha's wounds, her general condition, keeping the fire lit and scouting for any activity out in the blizzard.

When nighttime came, he crawled under the blankets with her, but didn't really sleep much. Instead, he kept getting up to throw more logs onto the fire or check out sounds he must have imagined hearing.

Dawn was barely breaking when Natasha fought her way back to him.  
Clint slid a hand behind her neck and gently eased her up while bringing the soup cup to her lips.  
"You gotta drink some, Nat. Please."

She made a valiant effort, managing to swallow down a few mouthfuls before she went limp again.

Clenching his jaw, Clint lowered her to the pillow again and put the cup away.  
He glanced at the window, absently noting the blizzard had eased off and he walked over to the table where he'd placed the useful things he'd found in the cabin.

Brushing away canteens and books, Clint found what he was looking for: a hunting map.  
He followed a red line with his finger and tapped a square mark drawn on the paper.  
There…

The sound of a branch snapping made Clint dart over and press his back against the wall next to the window.  
Drawing a couple of deep breaths, he then took a quick peek outside.

Movement. Two, possibly three, maybe more, shadows among the trees, half-hidden by the light snowfall.

"Goddammit," Clint hissed, reaching out to take a hold of the gun lying by the window, made sure it was loaded and checked how many bullets he had.  
He threw a final glance over at Natasha, silently promising he'd be back, and went into action.

Pulling on his boots made his tender skin scream, but it didn't even slow Clint down.  
Another peek out the window revealed the intruders had come closer, but didn't seem to have made out the cabin yet.  
Saved by nature once again.

He didn't take the time to grab his jacket, opting for the grey sweater to act as a better camouflage in the snowdrift. He opened the door, slipped outside and closed it, oh so quietly, behind him.  
Clint Barton knew he wasn't at his best with a gun. But, he thought as he headed for the massive tree to the left of the cabin, he was still better than most!

Climbing the tree took more effort than he thought it would, but it just proved to Clint that he was more exhausted than he should be after a somewhat decent night's rest.  
Still, Hawkeye was soon comfortably perched on a sturdy branch and had, even with a light snowfall, a pretty decent view of the approaching party.

Seven Hydra soldiers were fanned out and making their way through the snow in a half-hearted attempt at finding them. 

Observing them for as long as he needed to weed out all info he could, from rank to which ones were wearing radios, Clint lifted the gun and aimed.

After the first soldier fell, Clint had taken down two more before the remaining four realized what was happening.  
He shot number four as the soldier tried to run from behind one tree to another and number five fell while shooting wildly in every direction but up where Clint was hiding.  
Number six was in his sight when he saw number seven move out of the corner of his eye.

Clint fired and turned just in time to see the grenade flying towards him.

-

_3 days ago_

_Natasha opened her eyes as the door into the room opened.  
Now that their commander was approaching, suddenly everyone was humming with energy._

_She wondered briefly if it was going to be necessary to eliminate the Prisoner as well, but anyone who had been in the claws of Lind would probably be more eager to escape than stirring up trouble for her._  
_If not, well, she had a blade for this Prisoner as well.  
Nobody was getting between her and Lind again. Not even an innocent._

_Natasha felt her body tense up as footsteps entered the room. Two soldiers came into sight, dressed in the Hydra winter uniform, half shielding and half dragging a third person between them._

_It was a man, walking with unsteady steps on bare feet, wearing torn grey track pants, a blood-stained t-shirt that probably had been white once, and to top it off; he had a bag over his head. It wasn’t hard to deduct that this was the Prisoner who had finally drawn Lind out of hiding._

_She glanced over at the small device she was about to attach to the surveillance camera, the video loop would buy her the time she needed to take care of Lind, but something made her freeze.  
The soldiers shoved The Prisoner down on the one lone chair in the middle of the room and the muffled grunt caught her attention._

_-_

_Suddenly wide eyed, Natasha found herself agitated by something she was unable to determine, but her instincts were going haywire._

_She barely noticed the soldiers leaving, laughing among themselves, and absently hit the recording button on the device. Her attention was locked on The Prisoner._

_He sat with legs spread wide to keep his balance, head slumped forward, his face hidden under the bag and with his hands cuffed behind his back._

_Those shoulders... Those arms... She'd recognize them anywhere.  
Natasha had read about denial, knew the theory, but still her heart raced faster._

_Waiting for the full fifteen seconds required to make a decent video loop seemed to take forever, but finally she was able to hook into their video feed and activate it._

_Jumping down from her corner, her feet made no sound as they hit ground, yet Natasha still saw the bag move as the Prisoner turned his head slightly in her direction._  
_She carefully walked towards him, knowing there were only a handful of people in the world who would be able to sense her approach and yet her senses hummed with the feeling of being monitored from underneath the coarse bag.  
The Black Widow stopped in front of him, crossed her arms and watched as the bag lifted along with his head to 'stare' back at her._

_She hesitated, studying the shoulders again, along with his legs and even his breathing pattern.  
Everything matched with what she knew couldn't be true._

_Eventually Natasha simply reached out and snatched off the bag, taking a step back in case of a trap._

_The result was a pale, scruffy Clint Barton blinking at the light._

_Stunned, she could only stare as he adjusted and huffed a relieved laugh at the sight of her._

_"Hey, Nat. Figured they'd send you. Hell, even I lost count after the fifth country they bounced me through."  
His smile faded as she was still staring at him, trying to decide whether she was dreaming or if this was some bizarre Hydra trick._

_She crossed her arms again ,defensively, resting her weight on one hip and carefully slid on a neutral face. "You were reported as KIA in Cairo."_

_Clint, everything in her said it was truly him, raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I'm dead?"_

_He sounded so upset she couldn't prevent a corner of her mouth from curling at a smile. "Apparently not."_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha learns what happened to Clint and Clint has to deal with the uninvited guests.

**Present time**

Just before the grenade went off, Clint instinctively jumped out of the tree.  
The shockwave sent him crashing into the neighboring tree. He grunted with pain when the impact against the trunk knocked the air out of him. As gravity kicked in and he fell; Clint tried to curl up protectively to shield his head, yet bounced off and broke several branches on the way down.

Hawkeye landed hard on his back in the snow, struggling to both breathe and regain his senses from the explosion, but he went completely still when his somewhat blurry eyesight caught the movement of the last Hydra soldier coming his way.

Clint's body was trembling with shock, pain and the cold, but he managed to keep still long enough for the soldier to come close.  
The gun was long gone, but Clint's fingers carefully wrapped around the hilt on the knife strapped to his upper thigh and when the soldier leaned over to peer at him, he sat up abruptly and rammed the knife up between the ribs; into his heart.  
Falling back as the soldier toppled over him, Clint felt the air being forced out of him yet again and his entire frame shuddered with a mute scream of pain.  
He didn't move for a long time, focusing on trying to ride out the violent shudders that continued to shoot through him and getting air into his lungs between strained coughs. This lasted until the freezing cold forced him to act or fall asleep and never wake again.

The Hydra soldier felt impossibly heavy as Clint struggled to push him off. The blood had drenched the borrowed sweater and the freezing wind consequently attacked without mercy. 

Finally free when the body eventually slid off him, Clint aimed to roll over on his side to get up but halted with a gasp of pain mid-roll as agony shot up his right leg.  
Struggling up on his elbow, he managed to gaze down to see what was wrong with his leg.

At first he thought his leg was broken with the bone sticking out of the torn leg of the pants. Hawkeye blinked and shook his head, refocused, and realized it was a piece of wood that had impaled his leg, some inches below his knee.

 

Letting his head fall back into the snow, Clint cursed softly. Great...

Though, the cold did not allow him much time to contemplate further on his misery.  
Clint felt his limbs twitching in response to the sub-zero temperature and the crap they had been put through lately, so he made himself sit up fully this time.

He pressed a hand above the stick protruding from his leg and glanced up to scout for branches he could use to pull himself up on his feet.  
No such luck.  
It took him an uncomfortably long time to get up and even longer to limp his way towards the cabin, leaving behind a blood trail he hoped the snow would cover and hide.

Clint's hands were trembling so bad he could barely make his fingers grasp the door handle and open it. He hobbled inside and closed it by leaning heavily against it.

Coughing hard, Hawkeye wrapped his arms tightly around himself despite his battered torso's complaints and tried to block out the pain and the cold.  
Focus, he scolded himself. Get your act together.

  


_3 days ago_

_Crouching down in front of him, placing her hands lightly on top of his knees, Natasha tilted her head. "What happened?"_

_He was pale, with fading bruises and a scruffy chin. His clothes were torn and dirty. Yet, his eyes, the windows to the soul, were clear and filled with life._  
_Clint told her about how he'd woken up after the explosion had knocked him out to find himself in a shady clinic where some wannabe doctors had tended to the wounds he'd suffered. His fall had shielded him from the flames, but he’d knocked his head pretty bad._  
_After that, they had pulled a bag over his head and transported him out of Egypt. It became a blur of tranquilizers and dark rooms until they had stopped and spent a week underground. For that week, Clint didn't see a single soul so he was almost relieved when they came to pick him up again._

_This time he was lead to an interrogation room and was questioned/beaten up for hours. They wanted to know about Loki and about the Avengers. Especially Loki. That became the routine for the next weeks._  
_Clint held her eyes when he stated he'd told them nothing._  
_She believed him._  
_Heaven knew she had firsthand experience of how stubborn this man could be._

_Lind had finally ordered for him to be brought to Russia so he could do the questioning himself and Clint was starting to worry that he was running out of time._

_Natasha swallowed hard and moved behind him. "Let's get you out of here." But as she reached for the handcuffs, Clint objected._

_Frowning confused, she slowly stepped back in front of him again. "What?"_

_Clint gave a little shrug. "Would be a shame for Lind to travel all the way out here and not get anything for it."_

_Natasha pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment. As much as she wanted to get her partner out of here, just seeing him reduced was making her hackles rise, the Black Widow also smelled the golden opportunity to take down a man very high on SHIELDs naughty list._  
_A good deed combined with Clint getting revenge for all the crap he'd gone through._  
_Natasha crouched down in front of him again, pulling off her leather gloves, and smiled. "You sure you're up for this?"_

_Clint nodded, looking exhausted but with fierce determination in his set jaw._

_That. That there was her man. Her Clint._

_She decided she'd blame it on the relief of finding him alive, the strain of tracking and killing, combined with whatever lies she could conjure up at the moment, (and it might not even be lies) but it was frightfully easy to surge forward, her hands on his knees, and press her lips to his._

_The kiss was anything but gentle, a strong need to claim and reassure herself that he was indeed alive, and it was almost too perfect when the pressure opened the wound on his already split lip and she tasted his coppery blood._

_Clint flinched and hissed with pain, snapping Natasha out of her bliss with a startled realization that she just might have made a huge mistake and began to pull away._

_Her lips didn't get to leave his before Clint was the one surging forward and responding to her kiss with equal amount of need._

_-_

_Why him? Tony Stark had asked once._

_They were watching Clint Hawkeye Barton talking to Bruce Banner and Natasha glanced over at Tony with a faint smirk. It really killed him that she'd never fallen for the Stark Charm Attack.  
Rolling his eyes, Tony had laughed. "Fine. Okay. I'm jealous." He'd pointed his whiskey glass at her. "Still want an answer to my question though."_

_Natasha returned to watch Clint and considered what she should answer.  
If she could even make him understand._

_"I mean," Tony continued, taking a deep gulp from his glass, "you could have had your pick from the top shelf." He leaned conspiratorially towards her without taking his eyes off Barton. "That would be me."_

_Natasha nodded amused._

_"Or, if you prefer, golden boy legend Steve Rogers. Thor would probably gladly offer his manly manliness," Stark mused. "Hell, Banner's brain makes even 'me' a little adventurous..." He ignored Natasha's soft, amused laugh and turned to face her. "Seriously, why Katniss? He's... handy if you got an apple-hat you want pierced, I suppose."_

_Natasha let her gaze move over Clint, from his spiky blonde hair to the contagious smile she never saw often enough. The strong neck she ached to dig her teeth into, the powerful shoulders she'd leaned on more than once and she could admire his arms and hands for hours..._  
_He had a strong, broad back, hard and slender waist, and an ass that would make a ninety year old spinster jump out of her wheelchair to do cartwheels with joy.  
Clint's muscled thighs and legs allowed him to climb to his favorite perches and she happily volunteered to massage out any cramps that appeared during their training._

_Her list of physical reasons why she'd choose Clint was embarrassingly long, but there were other, maybe more important, aspects to it as well._

_Clint Barton was the one person she trusted with her life. He knew her thoughts without her having to speak them out loud, and he never once judged her for being what he knew she was._

_Where the world saw her as a deadly weapon, he saw Natasha._

 

**Present time**

Hopping on his one good leg, Hawkeye dragged the chair over to the fireplace and sat down.  
He was trembling even harder now.  
Forcing himself to pull off the sweater, drenched in blood and melted snow, he then pulled the knife that had saved his life out of its sheath again, before removing the boot on his injured leg.

Clint proceeded to carefully widen the tear in the fabric of the pants where one end of the sharp stick was poking out to get a better look at the wound. He made a face at the mess before moving to do the same to the exit wound as well.  
Breaking off the thicker end, Clint then counted to three before pulling the stick out.  
He tossed it blindly to one side, clutched his leg and pressed his forehead to his knee to keep himself from screaming.

Seconds later, panting hard and blinking the sweat out of his eyes, he dared a glance over at Natasha.  
Still out.  
Clint allowed himself a few more seconds of feeling the pain then went to work.

Putting make-shift pressure bandages on each side, he quickly wrapped gauze around the leg. It wasn't perfect, but it did the trick. The bleeding had more or less stopped, the pain was reduced to a pulsing throb and he could still wiggle all his little piggies.

His next target was the map over on the kitchen table.

 

Balancing on his good leg, supporting himself by placing both hands on the table, Clint scanned the map and did some calculations.

If he interpreted the markings right, the red line was a trail and the squares marked more hunting lodges.  
Hydra would eventually come looking for the soldiers so that meant he and Natasha needed to be gone before they arrived.

What he wouldn't give for some pain meds right about now...

Clint grabbed a compass he'd found earlier and memorized direction and distance of the next cabin. He then rolled up the map, shoved the compass into the pocket on his pants and limped his way over towards the abandoned backpack by the door.

Packing only what he knew they would need, Clint took the time to heat up some more soup and tried to wake Natasha. The relief when he got a response was so strong he shivered.

She didn't open her eyes, but managed to swallow a few more mouthfuls of soup. "How long've I been out...?"

"A little less than a day," Clint lied.

She nodded and drifted off again.

The fact that she couldn't tell he was lying was not a reassuring sign. Natasha always knew.  
Hawkeye downed the rest of the liquid, ignoring how his stomach objected, and started the painful mission of getting the boot back on his bad leg.

 

Despite his t-shirt being stained with blood and some melted snow, Clint decided to keep it and pulled on the only other sweater he'd found. Unfortunately it was not as thick and warm as the first one, but beggars couldn't be choosers.  
He regretfully removed his jacket from Natasha and pulled that on as well, before saddling up with the backpack.

Testing how much weight he could put on his injured leg, Clint returned to the unconscious woman.  
He made sure her parka was zipped up tight, pulled her hood as close to her face as possible and wrapped the blankets around her as well, only then did Hawkeye slide his arms underneath her and hoisted her up to rest against his chest.  
"Time to go, Nat," Clint mumbled, adjusting her slight weight in his arms and turned to walk outside.

Figures the one time he'd get to carry her, bridal style, across the threshold, it would be with her passed out from gunshot wounds and them fleeing for their lives.

He clamped down tight on those thoughts for the moment. Time for feelings later.  
Right now, he needed to focus on getting them out of there alive.

Maybe the next cabin would have a radio?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha welcomes Lind to the party and Clint struggles to keep his partner alive.

_3 days ago_

_Sitting back on her haunches, Natasha slowly lowered her lips from his and glanced up to find herself staring into Clint's remarkable eyes._

_He saw everything, she knew that, and at that moment it felt like he was staring straight into her soul.  
Natasha felt a faint shiver of fear run down her spine as she gazed into his as well._

_She'd always known there was something between them, something fragile and almost tender that just waited for permission to grow, but they had trained her well._  
_Love is for children, she'd said to Loki.  
And she meant it. Love was for the innocent, not for someone like her. Love was pure and warm, she was sharp and tainted. Yet…_

_Tilting her head slightly, the Black Widow reached out and gently slid her hand along his stubbly jawline until she cupped his face and then closed her eyes again as he turned to place a warm, lingering kiss against her palm._

_"Natasha," he whispered, his lips still brushing against her suddenly sensitive skin._

_Distant voices made them both start and Natasha straightened abruptly. She pulled on her gloves again and raised her eyebrows at Clint. "Last chance..."_

_He grinned._

_After replacing the bag over his head and placing a lock-pick in his hand, Natasha quickly made her way back up to her corner in the ceiling and carefully turned off the video loop.  
She kept her gaze locked on the door, but allowed herself a final treat as she lazily licked her lips for the final remnants of Clint's blood._

_The incoming interruption was unfortunately not Lind, but a couple of Hydra soldiers aiming to 'soften' Hawkeye up before the big man himself arrived._  
_Watching the duo punch and threaten Clint, drenching him with a bucket of cold water, made Natasha tense with the need to defend her partner, but she knew he could handle it._  
_A bigger cause, Natasha, she reminded herself. This is what Clint wants._  
_He'd take a little more pain to get his revenge, another similarity between him and the Black Widow._  
_Pain was just another means to an end._

_The soldiers left after about fifteen minutes and when the door closed, she heard Clint groan and letting out a wet cough as he hung his head low.  
"If that's the best they can do, we really don't have to worry about these Hydra guys," he rasped._

_Natasha gave an amused smile. "Then we'll just have to show them how to do it, don't we?"  
She didn't even need to see his face to know Clint was smiling as well._

_In the minutes that followed the only sound which could be heard was the drip of water, and she suspected blood, falling from the bag covering Clint's head._

_Lind was close. She could feel it. Her senses were vibrating with tension._

_Natasha turned the video loop back on exactly two seconds before the door opened again and Lind walked into the room. The terrorist was easily recognizable with his gruff face, blond hair and standing a head taller than everyone else in the room.  
She saw Clint's shoulders tense, a strange mix of anger and... wariness? It raised a bunch of questions she'd never ask as he'd never demanded she'd tell him what they did to her in the Red Room._

_Why Clint Barton, Tony Stark had asked. Natasha almost wished he could have been here to see her drop from the ceiling just as Clint jumped up from the chair, hands freed to rip away the bag over his head, and the two made quick work of the bodyguards. She didn't have to tell Clint anything, he just knew._

_(He was the one Avenge capable of reading her and he was the only one among them who hadn't been artificially enhanced or belonged to another world.)_

_Lind tried to reach for his gun, but Natasha easily broke his wrist and had him down on his knees, waiting for Hawkeye to finish up with his last target and come for his revenge.  
Soon enough she heard the familiar footsteps approach, and she saw Lind pale at the smile filled with anticipation appearing on her face._

 

**Present time**

The snow was close to knee-height and it made walking both difficult and exhausting.  
Clint had to push his way through the snow drifts, unable to use his arms for balance, and while the hard work kept him more than a little warm; the freezing wind instantly attacked the sweat on his skin. Luckily the small amounts of falling snow didn't seem to pick up its pace or increase in intensity. 

His leg had ached infernally for the first few hours, but eventually he'd lost sensation in it all together.  
A little voice at the back of his head pointed out that this was probably NOT a good thing, yet Clint was more worried about Natasha.  
Despite her winter clothing and being wrapped in several blankets, he had to get her out of the cold.

Hawkeye cast a glance up at the sun's position to check he was navigating in the correct direction and nearly fell as his foot slipped on some ice. It was extremely hard to walk on slippery ground when you couldn't really feel where you set your feet...  
He drew a sharp and startled breath as he regained his balance with some difficulty, and had barely gotten his footing again before he was struck by a coughing fit.  
Clint was forced to lean a shoulder against a tree and place his weight against it as the coughs tore through him, again and again, until it tapered off enough for him to take small, desperate gulps of air.  
He pushed away from the tree and started walking again.

 

That night Clint was forced to find them shelter outside.  
Luck, ever the fickle thing, deigned to cut him some slack amidst the misfortune and he found an abandoned bear cave with some protection from the icy wind.

He knew it was a bad idea, but once he'd settled Natasha carefully, he lit up a small fire.  
The flames might give away their position, but he was more worried about if they'd survive the cold night if they didn't. He heated a battlefield ration, but only ate a third of it. Natasha didn't respond to his calls, no surprise there, but her pulse felt reassuringly strong.  
Clint wanted to check Natasha's wounds as well, but didn't want to expose her to the freezing temperatures so he decided to leave it.

Settling behind her, Clint pulled her close against his chest and absently toyed with their one remaining gun while keeping a sharp eye on the cave entrance as time passed slowly...

He wasn't aware of falling asleep until a violent coughing fit exploded in his chest and shook him awake.  
Clint automatically hugged Natasha close and rode out the excruciating spasms each cough produced. Only when he was sure it was over did he ease his grip and slumped back against the wall to wheeze for air.  
A drop of sweat ran down from his temple as dawn broke outside the cave.  
Time to go.

 

Trying to get up was pure agony. Clint had to pull himself up on his feet by digging his fingers into the roots covering the cave walls and gritted his teeth against the piercing sensation in his feet.  
It felt like his legs were made of glass and were cutting into him.

He gasped during each limping step he took around the cave, almost falling twice, until he'd either numbed himself or the blood circulation had been stimulated enough, but eventually Clint was able to walk somewhat normal and moved back to Natasha.

"Natasha?" His voice sounded both strained and exhausted, but she showed no reaction to it.  
Nodding to himself, he got the backpack, and then arranged the blankets around her before lifting her up in his arms again.  
Clint swayed for a couple of moments, his legs trembling under the extra weight no matter how light, and he waded back into the snow before he could change his mind.

An endless amount of snow, several crashes to his knees and two coughing fits that tore at his chest later, Clint wasn't sure if he was hallucinating when he thought he saw a small cabin in the distance.

It still gave him strength enough to walk on; snow layered above knee-height now, and gave a silent laugh of relief when the building proved itself not to be a dream.  
He struggled up the stairs, shouldered up the door and stumbled inside.

 

Where the previous cabin had obviously been deserted for some time, this one showed signs of people having been there not too long ago. Whoever owned these buildings, Hawkeye was going to send them a bottle of vodka when he got home. No, make that a full case of vodka!

Clint kicked the door shut behind him, scouted the surroundings and found it similar built to the other cabin. He moved over to lower Natasha down on the bed with a massive bear-felt on it.  
Undoing the hood on her parka, Clint petted her cheek.  
"Natasha..." He frowned at yet another lack of response and petted harder. "Nat!"

A slight movement and she made a little moan.

Still alive, but even weaker. She wasn’t losing blood at a critical rate, but enough so that her lips had lost their lush color and her usual pale complexion was approaching ghostly. If her wounds got infected, either due to the bullet still in her or because of their less than sanitary environment, there would be nothing he could do to save her. That thought was worse than any physical pain Clint was feeling at the moment.

Clint didn't waste any time but began searching for any kind of radio equipment or medication.  
He found tinned food, a pretty sweet hunting knife, a second compass, maps of the area, some old ammo for an AK-47, and something that finally put a smile on his face: a crossbow.  
Granted, a far cry from his beloved bow, but it felt so comfortable to hold even a distant cousin.  
The smile faded slightly when he saw there were no more than 11 arrows.

The smile vanished all together when, after several thorough searches of the cabin, top to bottom, revealed neither meds nor a radio.

They were still trapped.

_4 days ago_

_Natasha wished they had all the time in the world for Clint to take his revenge, but the world was never fair.  
Still, she knew she didn't have to tell him that and so she merely watched as he returned some of the pain Lind had delivered upon him._

_A hit was never personal to them. A target was a target, nothing more. Other than professional pride, Natasha and Clint didn't really care who lived or died as long as no Innocent was involved. This, however, was 'very' personal._

_She never had, and never would, see Clint as a sadistic man and even now did he end Lind's sufferings too fast by snapping his neck.  
Trust Clint to have the self-control to remember their time limit, just like she knew he would._

_Moving over, he undid and pulled the heavy jacket off a Hydra soldier._

_Natasha was about to pick up the guns when Clint wrung off his soaked t-shirt and the sight made her straighten again.  
Frowning, she reached out without thinking and her fingertips barely brushed by the marks left by whatever they had used to jolt electricity into his back. She was willing to bet there were marks like that all over his body, along with other bruises. He'd lost so much weight too..._

_Clint glanced over his shoulder at her, but then merely bent down and picked up the jacket._

_He didn't have to tell her anything because she knew the signs of torture from own experience...  
Natasha made sure to give Lind's corpse an 'accidental' kick as she stepped over it to pick up the final gun. She waited for Clint to finish pulling on a pair of combat boots he’d removed from the Hydra soldier as well, then she handed him the piece._

_They both took a deep breath while staring at the closed door.  
Natasha gazed over, held Clint's eyes, and tilted her head. "Ready?"_

_Clint exhaled slowly, got a better grip on the gun, then nodded. "Ready."_

_Sliding out of the room, they made their way down the hallway and towards freedom._

_"Back up?" Clint asked, peering around a corner._

_Natasha shook her head. "No." She followed as he continued towards the next turn. "SHIELD doesn't even know where I am."_

_Clint stopped by the corner and sent her a quizzical look._

_Natasha shrugged. "Dead. Remember?"_

_He once again peered around the corner, making sure to dodge the surveillance camera as well when continuing. "So what the hell are you doing here, Nat?"_

_"Revenge."  
Her answer was short, honest and devoid of emotion. A simple state of fact._

_Clint pulled her into a dark corner, fencing her in with one hand on each side by her shoulders and suddenly seemed to tower over her. His eyes were scanning her face.  
"Natasha..." His voice was barely a whisper, filled with that dangerous tenderness she would never allow him to use on her in the past._

_She quickly slid her hand behind his neck, felt the short strands of his hair between her fingers, and pulled him down to her lips._

_Natasha could feel the shudder that ran through him.  
She'd come for him when Loki tried to take him from her so why was Clint so surprised she came to avenge his death? She would gladly set fire to the world to get to the guilty ones. How could he not know that?_

_Clint responded to the kiss eagerly, a deep-throated groan vibrating from his chest, and when he leaned against her she felt desire coil up tight in her belly. A want she had harbored and denied for so many years it now felt close to painful._  
_It was such a terrible timing for this, but Natasha still wrapped a leg around Clint's thigh and yanked him even closer.  
She exploited his surprise to deepen the kiss, allowing for one glorious moment where she just acted and felt and savored, before spinning him around and pushing him against the wall._

_His back hit the wall with a muffled thump and Clint seemed somewhere between blissed out of his mind and scared half to death._

_Natasha smiled. "You with me, Barton?"_

_He returned her smile with one of his own and gave a little nod. "Always."_

_Yes, she realized. Always.  
She could not survive losing him again._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha has an unpleasant surprise and Clint has more visitors!

**Present time**

After lighting up the fireplace, Clint settled down by the kitchen table and stared at the map.

His body was trembling non-stop now, even after he'd gotten the temperature inside the cabin above freezing.

He knew they had no chance of getting out of Russia on foot. As far as he could make out, they were in a forest in the south-east area with no access to anything.  
Clint could probably make it to the next cabin to look for a radio if he went on his own, but that would mean leaving Natasha behind...  
She'd woken up for a little while he was carrying logs, but his relief was short-lived as she was making no sense and kept demanding water, which he became wary about giving her after counting her pulse.  
Natasha was heading into shock...

Grunting, Clint leaned forward as he dragged his hands through his hair.  
Options, options... What were his options...?

Move on to the next cabin, hoping there would be a radio there, but risk not making it and freezing to death in the snow. They could hunker down here, sheltered from the weather, but risking Natasha dying without medical help. And, finally, they could go back and either steal a vehicle or be re-captured by Hydra.

He absently slid a hand down his right thigh and clutched his knee. His wound felt like it was going to give him trouble, but Clint didn't have the strength to check. His boots were just too painful to remove by now as well.

Hawkeye rested his forehead on the map and turned his face to gaze over at Natasha.  
She was growing restless again.

He straightened and walked over to sit by her side. Taking her hand between both of his, Clint didn't move for many hours.  
It was getting hard to think, plan, and decide what to do. He knew he had to decide eventually, just not now.

 

When dusk had to give way for night, Clint tried to force himself to eat some food, but he only ended up on all fours on the porch and throwing it all back up.

Dizzy and exhausted, he limped back inside and curled up next to Natasha.  
Trying to get some sleep turned out to be close to impossible as a coughing fit would shake him awake the second he felt like drifting off and he couldn't help but to notice how it was getting harder to breathe.  
It seemed like Natasha wasn't the only one in trouble...

Clint got out of the bed and slowly made his way over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water and hobbled over to the chair in front of the fireplace. 

Sipping at the liquid, he sat staring into the flames, occasionally nodding off and throwing logs on the fire, until dawn broke and daylight began seeping in the frost stained window.  
He didn't even hear the helicopter before it was dangerously close.  
By the time Clint recognized the sound for what it was, he didn't think and merely reacted. 

Zipping up his jacket and grabbing the crossbow, driven by a raw boost of adrenaline, Hawkeye limp-ran outside. He halted on the small porch and scouted the sky.

There.  
A small black Hydra helicopter. And it was heading towards him.  
Perfect.

 

He ran towards the nearest tree, used it to jump from it to the cabin wall, back to the tree and then up on the roof.  
Clint crawled on all fours through the snow on top of the cabin until he reached the top and then got his feet under him again.  
Standing up straight, he slowly slid one arrow between his fingers, noting every imperfection while his eyes never left the dark figure in the sky.

Wind, moisture, his own trembling frame... All the calculations were made inside his head as he loaded the crossbow and took aim.

For most people, it would be an impossible shot. For an expert marksman it would be close to impossible. 

Clint drew a deep breath, held it, and as he exhaled, he let the arrow fly at the very moment the chopper fired a missile towards him.  
The rocket missed, hitting a tree and making it fall next to the cabin, but the arrow hit its mark.

Hawkeye lowered the crossbow while watching the helicopter slowly spin out of control with its pilot dead, making sure he noted the crash-site before moving to roll off the roof.  
Keeping a protective hold on the crossbow, Clint squirmed through the fall and made sure to land on his side, keeping the weapon whole and not exposing his feet to the impact.  
The heavy snow cushioned the drop a bit and he was able to struggle his way back up and began his trek towards where the chopper had gone down.

He just hoped there weren't too many survivors or that the crash had broken the radio beyond repair...

_4 days ago_

_Pressing their backs against the wall, Natasha and Clint kept their breathing to a minimum as a group of soldiers walked pass them._

_It was a little over ten minutes ago that the intruder alert had suddenly started blaring through the compound and the halls were now flooded with guards looking for the culprits.  
Clearly someone had discovered Lind's body and sounded the alarm._

_Natasha glanced over at Clint, got a little nod, then they stepped forward and let the bullets fly.  
There was no way they were getting further without being noticed so now it was time to kick their way out._

_She had learned long ago never to underestimate the power of surprise and she had her knowledge once again confirmed as the soldiers fell without being able to fire more than two shots.  
Clint continued down the hall, Natasha having their six. _

_It felt so right to be in battle with the one man she trusted by her side again it should had made Natasha uneasy, but instead she focused on getting the job done and sort out the mess in her head later._  
_He was alive, that was all that mattered. She, who did not believe in miracles, had been granted one._  
_She actually smiled as she saw Clint's magnificent backside disappear around a corner before she followed._

_That smile quickly died when she almost walked into the frozen Hawkeye and froze herself upon finding several Hydra soldiers lined up and aiming at them._

_Clint slowly gazed over at her as he raised his hands in a sluggish and careful move.  
Natasha felt his gaze on her, knowing their minds were trained to work as one, and she didn't hesitate as Hawkeye suddenly dove to one side and she started firing._

_She didn't see Clint rolling into the three soldiers who fell, but her instincts told her, and she quickly dove into safety herself as the bullets were now being returned in her direction.  
Rolling to a halt, she got up into a crouch, re-loading her gun and scouting for her partner._

_Clint was busy in hand-to-hand battle with a Hydra soldier, but didn't seem like he was in any need of help so she focused on the rest._

_It made her twitch when the bullet went through her arm, but Natasha had no time to check the damage as a massive arm wrapped around her throat and yanked her backwards.  
She dropped her guns and grabbed a firm hold of the arm, before kicking a leg up while bucking forward. Her attacker was too heavy to budge but it gave her the leverage to actually kick him in the face and the arm released its hold on her._

_Picking up her guns as she landed in a crouch, Natasha turned and finished the job on her attacker.  
She picked off two more soldiers with two well-aimed shots. _

_Clint had finished his own fight as well and quickly stole a gun from one of his victims.  
"Go!" He called out, raising the gun with a double grip and fired down the hall._

_Natasha didn't argue, merely ran, and didn't stop before she'd reached the exit door and found it locked._

_She dared to cast a quick glance behind her, making sure Clint was indeed following her, and then turned to shoot out the lock on the door between them and their escape.  
The Black Widow didn't feel the flames, but she saw them as the door abruptly exploded and sent her flying backwards._

_She exhaled sharply when she crashed into Clint, felt his arms go around her as they fell back._

_Rolling over on his side, Clint half-hovered over her, using himself as a shield, as he fired blindly into the flames, buying her time to recover._

_Her ears were ringing, her body was stunned and Natasha was blinking to regain her eye sight.  
Stupid, she cursed herself. Careless._

**Present time**

Clint cautiously approached the wreckage, arrow nudged and ready on the crossbow. 

He scanned the surroundings, ears straining to catch every little sound, and he bit firmly down on the cough threatening to break free.  
He halted by a massive tree, leaning his back against it before peeking out and searching for any signs of a trap.

The helicopter was lying on its side, two of its rotor blades broken off and the tail section bent completely out of shape. There was a hole in the front window where the arrow had gone through. The arrow that was still protruding from the pilot slumped over in his seat.

Clint let his gaze drop and cursed softly at the sight of footsteps in the snow, heading away from the wreckage.

He carefully raised the crossbow and took a step forward.  
Predictably a shot was fired and Clint wrung his torso to fire the arrow in the direction of the muzzle fire. He grunted as the bullet grazed his side, but the body of a Hydra soldier falling into the snow made it worth it.

Ducking behind the tree again, Clint pulled at the fabric clinging to his wounded side and sent a quick glance down at it.  
Barely any blood. Good. Merely superficial.

He pulled out another arrow and loaded the crossbow.  
The footprints told him there were two more out there.

Time to hunt.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha will get her partner out alive, while Clint goes hunting.

**Present time**

Backing away, Hawkeye turned left and carefully crept forward. 

His ears were constantly on alert for any kind of sound while his eyes darted from every tree and rock that could hide someone. Clint knew he had the odds against him.  
Going down on one knee, he pressed his right hand hard against his mouth and his entire body shook from every cough he tried to keep quiet.

When the fit finally passed, he wiped his hand on the snow, ignoring the bloodied trace it left, and got up to continue stalking his prey.

Ever so cautious, Clint stole a glance behind a tree, saw tracks and sent a wary gaze over the surroundings. The soldier was close, but how close?

Moving forward, attention darting between the tracks in the snow and scanning the area around him, Clint was closing in when a black shadow came crashing down on him from a tree and sent him face first into the snow.  
It seemed like the soldier had found him first.

Clint scrambled to free himself, but was flipped around and hands went around his throat and began to squeeze.

 

For a moment, Clint merely clawed in vain at the hands choking the life out of him, but finally training kicked in and he threw out a hard punch at the soldier's face.

It made his attacker weaken for a moment, but then the soldier merely leaned closer and tightened his grip even more.

Clint threw a second punch, this time rewarded with getting a small gulp of air as the grip loosened and he followed with his entire body for the third punch.

Finally it dislodged the hands and the soldier went for his gun.  
Hawkeye went for the gun as well.

It turned into a wrestle match with the two rolling around in the snow like two children, both men desperately trying to get the gun and prevent the other from getting it at the same time.  
When the gun eventually went flying through the air and landing a small distance from them, they froze for a moment before they went after it on all fours.

The Hydra soldier reached it first, quickly sitting up on his knees just as Clint's arm went around his neck while his other hand grasped his head.  
Hawkeye snapped the soldier's neck in one fluent move.

Letting the body fall into the snow, Clint got to his feet, swaying like a drunkard.

There had been three soldiers. One left then.

He followed the tracks until he was standing on a small formation of rocks. There he aimed the crossbow and let the arrow fly towards the soldier making his way across an open plain.  
Both the soldier and Clint collapsed at the same time. One from the arrow in his neck, the other from exhaustion.

 

_4 days ago_

_Clint didn't object when she pushed him aside, merely rolled with her motion, and Natasha was free to sit up to fire her gun at the soldiers milling outside.  
She heard Clint fire his gun behind them and knew there were soldiers trying to approach them from inside the building as well._

_They were caught in a pincer attack._

_Letting loose a long string of Russian curse words, hearing Clint's soft laugh at the uncharacteristic behavior, Natasha answered with throwing her single grenade outside.  
The explosion caused enough dust and confusion for them to move just outside and Natasha pointed towards the forest on their right. "Snow scooter. Radio."_

_Clint cast a quick glance, nodded, but kept focused on covering their tails._

_Natasha gathered herself, then darted towards the cluster of trucks where she could lay down some cover fire so Clint could follow._  
_No sooner had he joined her side did yet another explosion sound through the air._  
_Leaning forward, Natasha found the cause and leaned back to thump the back of her head against the truck. Dammit!_

_Clint sent her a quizzical look._

_Natasha raised an eyebrow. "There went our ride home."_

_All her equipment, her radio and the snow scooter, gone._  
_Natasha briefly wondered how she could have gotten them into such a tight spot by doing such a rookie mistake!_  
_Because you didn't expect to find him here, alive, a tiny voice piped up, and you didn’t really care if you made it out._

_Well, by the look of things, she was going to get Clint killed for real this time, Natasha shot back at the voice with no small amount of bitterness._

_"Wanna go for one of the trucks?" Clint asked, firing a couple of bullets to keep the soldiers at bay._

_Natasha hesitated.  
The trucks were big and sturdy, built for dirt roads, but they were also slow and an easy target._

_Like Clint had pointed out once, she was a spy, not a soldier. Natasha was all about stealth._  
_Most of her hits were made with no one but her target, or targets, seeing her._  
_None of them knew something was wrong until she wanted them to know._

_Hawkeye coughed absently next to her and Natasha glanced over at him. He was sweating despite the ice cold weather, his face was pale after what he'd been through, but he was indeed alive._

_Their eyes met and a calm came over her._  
_It would be alright._  
_Whatever happened, she would make sure he survived._

_Lind had probably arrived by air, which meant a helicopter as the forest was too thick for any planes to land, and that made the chopper their best chance at escape._

_Making their way across the yard, Natasha just prayed the damn thing was still there.  
She knew it would be a nightmare trying to get out on foot, especially with Clint not in his prime, but she was going to get him out of here._

_Natasha swore on her life; she would get him out alive!_

_They slowly fought their way forwards. The Hydra soldiers never seemed to end, like a never-ending flow of ants they kept coming, and when Natasha saw the empty landing site, she closed her eyes briefly with disappointment.  
On foot it was then. She would just have to shoulder Clint through it!_

_Turning to inform her partner, Natasha felt the first bullet hit her bulletproof vest like the kick from a mule to her ribs.  
She stumbled backwards; gasping for air, then pain tore through her along with the second bullet that entered by her clavicle. It was followed by the third bullet; that sent her toppling backwards._

_Falling, Natasha saw Clint running towards her. The ground was hard, despite the snow. Her body felt like it was on fire. The last thing she remembered was Clint’s hand pressing down on her where blood was gushing freely before her world turned black and silent._

_Clint made a frustrated sound between clenched teeth, pressing even harder against the wound in an effort to minimize the bleeding. His mind was racing both with what had happened and what he needed to do._

**Present time**

Opening his eyes, Clint was staring into the white as his mind did a mental reboot.

He was shivering, breathing quick and shallow, while trying to persuade his body to do one final effort.  
Natasha would die if he didn't get help.

The thought of Natasha gave Clint the strength needed to force himself up. It took an awful long time for him to get back on his feet. He started stumbling his way back towards the downed helicopter and eventually crawled into the broken cockpit.  
Ignoring the dead pilot, Clint reached out with numb fingers to test the radio and breathed a smile when it came to life.

He was no communications expert, but luckily SHIELD didn't send their agents into the field without perusing Communications for Dummies. 

The work would probably have had Tony Stark cringing, but Clint got the thing to work and to broadcast on the right wavelength and channel.  
He added his name, rank, code and a request for an emergency evac. 

Now it was all up to SHIELD, if they got the message, and whether they believed the authenticity of the call itself.

Natasha said they thought he was dead, but he hoped it would be enough for them to want to investigate at least.

 

Satisfied he'd done what he could at that location; Clint then made the walk back to the cabin.  
He had to reach out several times and support himself against the trees as his legs were threatening to go on a complete strike. That emergency call was their last chance...

Clint coughed, a wet and painful sound, spitting blood this time, but felt too cold and too tired to care.

He walked, either by habit or pure stubbornness, until he reached the cabin.

Opening the door, Clint froze.  
While the tree downed by the missile hadn't hit the cabin itself, a thick branch had shattered the window and allowed the ice cold wind and snow inside.

He closed the door with a strangled laugh on the verge of hysteria.  
Of course! What else could possibly go wrong now?

First he checked on Natasha. She felt warm, was restless and he didn't like her rapid pulse, but there wasn't much he could do now other than elevate her feet and tuck the blankets once more around her.  
Then Clint picked up the rug on the floor and hung it over the open window to keep some of the cold out.  
The fireplace was down to embers but it didn't take too long to revive the flames.

Hawkeye hesitated after that. His body wanted rest, but his mind said if he went down; he wouldn't get back up... This was the end of the line. He had nothing more to give.  
For once, Clint decided to listen to his body.

It was all up to SHIELD now.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past and present line up and a helicopter approaches the cabin...

**Present time**

Clint had no idea how long he'd been asleep when he heard the approaching aircraft.

Clint's eyes shot open and he gazed around the room. It was still daylight. No sign of intruders.  
His hand moved towards the table, but only now did he realize that he'd left the crossbow in the Hydra chopper.

He crawled out of bed, moved over to the rug-covered window and carefully peeked outside.

Clint leaned back, closed his eyes, and headed for the door.  
Walking outside, limping down the stairs, he waved his arms to be seen by the helicopter, which quickly honed in on him and began its descent. 

Hawkeye went back inside the cabin, gathering the limp Natasha in his arms, and walked outside to a welcoming committee consisting of three SHIELD soldiers aiming their machine guns at him.  
Clint didn't acknowledge them, merely walked towards the waiting aircraft and boarded.

The three soon followed. One was revealed to be a medic and did a quick check on the Black Widow.  
He balked at the look Clint gave him when he asked Hawkeye to release her and wisely decided to simply do his work with his patient in Barton's arms.

Luckily they had come prepared for injuries so the medic inserted an IV line into Natasha's arm to keep her stable until they reached the Helicarrier, but any offer to check out Clint's injuries were firmly declined.  
His mind was still spinning and struggling to realize they had indeed been rescued.

They had made it out. 

They were safe...

 

Once the helicopter landed on the Helicarrier, Natasha was put on a stretcher and rushed off.  
The medical wing was ready and awaiting her arrival after having been notified over the radio.

Clint's refusals at being checked out was turning aggressive by the time Fury appeared on deck. 

"With all due respect, sir, I just wanna make sure she's okay," Clint growled as his superior officer stepped between him and the medical crew.

Fury glanced over at the crew and nodded for them to leave. He focused on Barton again. "You're looking awfully good for a dead guy, Barton."

Hawkeye huffed a laugh. "Good to be back, sir." He tried to straighten, firmly ignoring his battered body’s howls to just curl up on the ground. "I just need to check up on Romanov, then I'll..."

"You will be allowed to see Agent Romanov soon enough," Fury interrupted. "First, we need to have a little chat."

Clint eyed the door where the medical team had rushed off with Natasha, vaguely wondering whether he could make it before Fury called his dogs on him, but finally admitted defeat with a sigh. "Very well, sir."  
He limped his way after Fury and into the meeting room.

 

Clint told the story of his capture, the questions and the constant moving. He had a feeling that Lind had been looking for something specific, but couldn't say what it was. They just kept going over the Loki questions, over and over again. He told Fury about Natasha rescuing him, the bullets that had struck her down and the trek through the snow.  
He left out some personal details, the torture and the kiss, but if Fury knew; he didn't call him on it.

Story told, Clint sank slowly back in the comfortable office chair.

He'd been wrung so tight for so long now that he'd almost forgotten how to unwind. How to not be on red alert every waking moment!  
His entire body hurt. It even hurt to breathe...

Fury turned away to give him his privacy when Clint went into a harsh coughing fit. He delayed turning around for a few seconds after it was over to give the man a moment to gather himself, but once he did turn he didn't hesitate to call for a medic.

Slumped to one side, the unconscious Clint Barton was breathing shallow, quick breaths as blood dripped from his mouth.  
His body finally gave up.

 

**3 days later**

Natasha was staring firmly at Clint Barton.

After being rescued from Russia, she had been unconscious for about 36 hours. Now, with her am in a sling, combined with antibiotics and transfusions; she was on the mend, even if it didn't move along as quickly as she would have liked it to.  
Her idiot partner, on the other hand, was a completely different matter.

Clint hadn't woken up yet. His body was being pumped full of all kinds of medications through IV lines, there were endless wires going in and out of him, and an oxygen mask covering half his face along with how every twitch was being monitored by the many computers around his hospital bed.

She had asked the doctors about his injuries, but there was just so much...

If Clint wasn't dying already she would have killed him for pushing himself as far as he had.

Natasha had no idea how he'd been able to walk on those feet. They were now heavily bandaged, but she'd seen the damage once when they were changing the dressings. She even overheard two nurses talking about how the doctors were considering amputating three or four of his toes.  
The wound in his calf was a swollen mess, oozing liquid and drawing dark lines where the veins carried its poison towards his heart.  
His breathing had almost failed twice under the strain of the pneumonia in both lungs he’d contracted during his captivity in those damp cellars.  
His fever would not come down!  
And this on top of the amount of torture he'd endured before she'd found him...

 

Natasha did not glance over at the sound of footsteps and someone sitting down next to her.

Steve had been by her side when she had woken up and he had been the one to deliver the news about Clint.  
He had come by the hospital room daily ever since.  
Not leaving his partner behind, Clint Barton had finally proved himself to the Captain it seemed. 

Natasha swallowed hard. "No change."

"I heard." Steve replied. There was a moment of silence before he continued. "Barton gave everything to get you out of there. He's not going to abandon you now."

Startled, she looked over at Steve, but then realized that everyone had probably known her feelings for Clint.  
Forcing a smile, she gave a little nod and returned to stare at the prone body on the hospital bed. 

At least she wasn't alone in her vigilance...

Tony Stark had entered her room about thirty minutes after she first had woken up and Steve had left.  
He had promptly shoved something in her hand and stepped back. It was a tracking device, he'd informed her. That way, all she needed to do was press the button and an emergency signal would be sent to Jarvis and Tony could come save the day. As that was what he did best.

Natasha remembered his flickering eyes as he gazed at the identical second device he was still holding on to, telling her he'd just have to hang around to deliver Barton his in person when he decided to wake up.  
She’d heard rumors that Stark had struggled in the aftermath of the New York Incident too; maybe that was why he looked at Clint with something like empathy…

 

Bruce Banner had appeared the next day, apologizing and explaining the difficulties with train and planes and whatnot. Natasha had been too surprised to say anything. She knew he and Stark had developed a friendship, but she was still surprised to see the shy scientist come out of hiding to check up on a team-mate he’d barely met.

Stark and Banner kept each other busy with tinkering on their science projects in the background, the Captain spent hours by her side, but all Natasha could register were the complications that kept appearing inside Clint's body. Sepsis was one of the many phrases she heard.

The few hours she was asleep, one of the others stayed by Hawkeye's side, but Natasha could never stay away for long; hoping he’d find his way back to her, like Steve said he would.  
The doctors, on the other hand, seemed to disagree.  
She saw them reading the results of their tests, shake their heads at what they saw in Clint and was half-tempted to close her ears to what they were telling her.  
Words like ' major organ failure' made her world tremble.

Finding him alive, she was supposed to rescue him! She was the one who was supposed to get him out of Russia, not the other way around! What was the point in saving her if he killed himself in the process? 

Natasha reached out, took Clint's scorching hand, gently rested her forehead to it and quietly despaired.

A couple of hours later, her senses warned her about an intruder long before she heard the footsteps. She absently noted the others had gone quiet as well, but didn't really care enough to look.

"I came as quickly as I could," a familiar voice said.

Natasha finally lifted her head and glanced up.

Thor sent her a grave look, giving a slight bow in greeting and moved further into the room.

Steve got up from his chair. "Did you get it?"

"Indeed I did," Thor replied, pulling out a small bottle.

Natasha frowned, getting up as well despite the protests of her body. "Get what? Exactly."

Thor cast a quick glance at Clint, a flicker of concern moving over his face, and then focused fully on Natasha. "I was told of the bravery of Hawkeye and his injuries. I know how he suffered at the hands of my brother, so I sought out a powerful sorceress in my world."

Natasha grew tense. "Magic..."  
A hand landed gently on her shoulder and she found herself glaring over at Rogers.

"It might be his only chance left," Steve said softly.

"Normally I wouldn't agree with Spangly Pants on anything," Tony Stark mumbled from the doorway, "and I'm DEFINETLY no big fan of magic, but..."

"We've tried everything else," Banner finished.

 

"In my world there is a tree with magical apples," Thor began, removing the cork in the bottle. "The apples returns life where life is fading. Many have sought out these apples, but the guardian will only grant them to those she deems worthy."

Natasha stuck her chin out, wanting to slap the bottle out of his hands and break it. She of all knew how Clint would have dreaded having 'anything' magical near him. "Why would she give them to us?"

"I spoke for his cause," Thor said. "And... so did my brother."

Now everyone seemed startled.

Tony shook his head as if to shake off the confusion he felt. "Loki? Loki helped you get the apples?"

Thor shifted uncomfortably. "He said it was important that Barton lived."

"How do we know he didn't just poison the apples?" Tony asked.

The Norse god straightened angrily. "You think I would risk the life of my friend? A battle brother?"

Natasha raised a hand to stop the fighting and silence fell.  
"We don't have much choice," she declared quietly. Her gaze darted up to hold Thor's gaze in an iron hold. "But if this is one of Loki's tricks..."

"It is not," Thor assured her. "I would not bring it here were I not certain. Even if you do not trust Loki, I know we can trust Idunn. She would not harm a friend of Asgard."

Natasha nodded, her gaze dropping to the heart rate monitor and not liking what she saw. "Then do it."

\- Forgive me, Clint, but I'm desperate...


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They wait for the magic to work and Natasha has a dream

Removing the oxygen mask, Thor gently poured the liquid from the bottle into Clint's mouth.

For a moment, Natasha feared he might choke, but suddenly she saw him swallow and Thor carefully replaced the mask.  
"Now what?" Natasha asked in a tense voice.

Thor sighed, not taking his eyes off Clint. "Now... we wait."

Hours passed and nothing seemed to change. A nurse came by to check on Clint but left without much to report.   
Natasha was close to accepting no news as good news.  
She studied his pale face, listened to his strained breathing and felt his feverish skin, but nothing seemed to change. What he’d gone through to get her home; his body was a wreck. Even with magic, was it possible to survive that?

Her nerves were eventually wrung so tight that she asked the other to leave as every breath, every tiny sound that followed their movements made her want to scream.

"We are but a room away," Thor assured her and Natasha merely nodded to make him leave faster.

Once blissful silence settled over the room, she was free to take Clint's hand again and listen to the beeps and whirls of the machines uninterrupted.  
“Clint…” She whispered. “I need you to wake up now, okay?” She drew a shivering breath. “You don’t get to die like this. Not for me.”

Clint Barton was a good man. The world needed good men. She was… flexible and expendable, and she was okay with that. She’d learned to accept those facts in the Red Room. It infuriated her that Clint refused to accept it.  
Her life was not worth his! Dammit! She wasn’t worth it! Her ledger would forever be dripping red.

How did he expect her to go on, in a world without him, with the knowledge that she’d caused the death of the person that mattered the most to her? 

And she never even told him… 

Suddenly she remembered every discrete glance he had sent her way, those longing looks, and how she had pretended not to notice or care.  
Natasha felt dry tears burn at her eyes and hid her face against the mattress.

-

In her dream, Natasha and Clint were back in Russia and fleeing from Hydra.  
They were running for their lives but she kept falling and she couldn't keep up with him.

"Just go!" She screamed, "Clint, run! Dammit, go!"

But he wouldn't.  
In her dream, she was despairing when he knelt down beside her, stroking her hair and whispering her name.

It took her a long time to realize it was real.

The hand stroking her hair, at least.

Starting, she sat up abruptly and saw Clint's hand fall to the sheet and he was looking at her.

At some point he'd pulled off his oxygen mask so she could see the echo of a smile on his lips.  
His face was pale, his eyes bleary, but he was awake!

Gasping for air, Natasha grabbed his hand again, unmindful of the IV line there and didn't think to apologize even when he winced.  
She stared intently at him. "Clint?"

He gave a slow blink with both eyes while his fingers tightened, barely perceptible, around hers.

Relief hit her. Hard!  
He was awake! He was going to surivive!

To her horror, Natasha felt her lips tremble with emotion so she pursed them fiercely together and choked down the tears that welled up.  
"You idiot!" She hissed vehemently before bending down and placing a lingering kiss on his hand.

-

When the nurse entered to find Agent Clint Barton awake; she looked like she was seeing a ghost. Natasha allowed herself a silent laugh against the back of his hand when the woman ran off to get the doctors.

Words like 'unprecedented' and 'miracle' was soon flying around the room while the physicians poked and prodded and measured Clint.  
He was still dangerously pale, barely capable of keeping his eyes open, but Hawkeye _had_ returned against all odds and reason. 

Natasha saw Steve hovering by the door with a look of hope and concern on his face. He’d probably been drawn by the commotion.  
She gave him a nod.  
It had worked.

Steve exhaled with relief and smiled the smile that belonged to a young boy who still believed in Good and Evil. He slipped quietly out of the room, most likely to inform the others.

Natasha endured the doctors fussing a while longer until she was certain Clint didn't need any more of their attentions and then promptly ordered them out.

She could see the relief on his face when it was only the two of them.  
Sitting back down on her chair next to the bed, Natasha placed a gentle hand on his arm. 

Clint slowly turned his face towards her and frowned. "You okay...?"

His voice was a weak rasp and she fought the urge to punch him in the face.

-

Clint could tell by the frown on her face that she wasn't happy but the memory of the obvious relief upon finding him awake made him braver than usual.  
His eyes dwelled on her arm resting in a sling. "Your arm..."

"Is going to be fine," Natasha clipped. "Your head, on the other hand."

"My head...?" Clint mumbled with more than a hint of confusion. He’d hit his head? It wouldn’t surprise him. He’d hurt just about every other part of himself.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, making him smile with fond recognition of her dry wit.  
"What you did, Clint, is clinically insane. They should lock you up."

Closing his eyes, he merely shook his head. It wasn’t the first time she’d accused him of being insane, and it would probably not be the last time either.  
He liked to claim he had an impulse problem.  
But protecting her and doing whatever it took to get her out? That wasn’t insane. That was… something else.

Cursing in Russian, Natasha shook him to make him look at her again. "I already mourned you once, Clint. Not again. Yes?"

He wanted to argue that he had no death-wish himself, thank you very much, but the raw pain in her eyes made him swallow his words. "I'm sorry."  
He was not sorry to see her awake, alive and as beautiful as always. Back in those cabins, he’d been so afraid he’d fail her. 

"Don't apologize," the Black Widow sneered angrily, but stroke her fingers over his warm skin. "You had us all worried. It's going to take a hell of a lot more than a simple apology to make up for this stunt, Barton."

-

She saw another shadow of confusion slide across his face as Clint considered her words. "Us?"

"Cap, Stark, Banner, Thor... They're all here."  
It was meant to reassure, but her heart sank at the defeated look on his face. 

"I didn't tell Hydra anything, Nat." Clint swallowed hard. "Not this time. I swear. Not since… Loki."

Her old hatred for Loki flared up again, but Natasha quickly stowed her own feelings away and squeezed Clint's hand hard to make sure she had his full attention. "Stop it, Clint. They heard you got hurt and came to help a team mate."

He nodded, but she could tell he wasn't fully convinced. He wanted to believe, but was afraid to hope that he could actually be considered one of them: a hero, not a traitor who had killed his own under the influence of Loki.  
How ironic, as he'd always been her hero, from the moment he looked into her eyes and saw something, someone, worth saving.  
Natasha got up. "You up to seeing them?"

He nodded with the determination of a man going to his execution and she walked out of the room to face the men waiting right outside.

"He's really awake?" Bruce asked in his soft voice.

Natasha nodded, clearing her throat before daring to speak, and glanced over at Rogers. "Make it fast. He needs to rest."

"Understood," Steve replied and disappeared into the room.

“Does he know?” Stark asked quietly, sending her a strangely solemn look.

“No,” Natasha admitted, crossing her arms and glancing back into the room. She had no idea how Clint would react to being saved by magic, especially magic gained with Loki’s help, but she wanted him stronger before she told him. “Not yet.”

Tony nodded, clearly understanding her dilemma. “Hey,” he raised a dark eyebrow, trying for his trademark sardonic smile, “it worked. That’s what’s important right now.”

Natasha hoped he was right and managed to give him a faint smile.   
If Clint never forgave her for using magic on him, she could live with that as long as it meant he was alive too.  
She just wished she knew why Loki had decided to help; why it mattered to him if Clint lived or died…

-

Almost every part of him ached, yet Clint was surprised at how much better he was feeling. The stabbing pain in his back every time he breathed was gone, the numbing pain in his feet was replaced with a thumping hurt that told him his blood-flow was back, so while he was hurting and horribly exhausted; it felt like he was coming back to life instead of fading away like before.  
Strange…

Clint tried to raise his hand to rub his eyes, but couldn't raise it more than half way due to the tubes and wires attached to it. He was trying to make sense out of the sight when the sound of footsteps made him gaze up again.

Captain America himself walked over to stand by the bed and gave a broad smile. "Excellent work, soldier."

Blinking confused, it took Clint several seconds to understand he actually meant him. 

"You got your partner home, Barton. Well done."

Clint tried to stutter something, but was interrupted by more footsteps.

"I was thinking about cracking a Sleeping Beauty joke, but a beauty you are not," Tony Stark quipped, moving to stand on the other side of the bed. "I got you a present instead."

A small device was promptly placed in Clint's hand and the archer raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"It's sort of an advanced GPS tracking device," Tony explained with a shrug. "Next time, you just press the button and the cavalry, that being us, will come charging in. Ok?"   
There was a discrete cough from Bruce Banner, half hidden behind Rogers.  
Tony rolled his eyes. "Fine." He shrugged again. "Banner helped modifying it." A brief pause. "A little."

Both Steve and Bruce laughed quietly and Clint was unable to fight off a smile of his own.  
Their relief and good cheer was contagious.

The tall looming figure in the back stepped forward as well and Thor gave a little nod in way of greeting. "It is good to see you among the living again, Eye of Hawk. Your courage has been justly rewarded."

Clint Barton, who suspected he could never forgive himself for what he’d done at Loki’s command, suddenly realized the other Avengers could and they had.  
For some strange reason, that realization made an invisible weight finally lift off his shoulders.

He glanced over at the hovering figure in the doorway and gave Natasha a grateful smile.

The Black Widow gave a faint smile in return and he blamed the drugs for thinking it looked like she might be on the verge of tears. 

Filled with relief, Clint drifted off again, unable to keep his eyes open, but this time into a healing sleep while the magic did its final work.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long overdue thing. And a hint of things to come.

5 days later

"Finally!" Clint's voice said from somewhere behind her as Natasha entered his apartment. She dropped the bag with his clothes in the hall and turned to face him just as he entered as well.

"I was starting to worry that they were never gonna let me out of that hospital," Clint grinned. 

He was still pale, but the life was back in his eyes and Natasha thought he'd actually never looked better. Back to his old self, almost healed thanks to the magic and finally she had him all alone.  
As she suspected, as the injuries healed; Clint had also slowly pieced himself together and they were pretending like the kisses had never happened back in Russia. If she let him, he would allow her to keep ignoring what every other person among the Avengers knew.

"Of course, this means I gotta start feeding myself, but..." Clint started, but never got to finish as she took his face between her hands and made him shut up with a harsh kiss. Her wounds ached a little at the movement, but it was inconsequential compared to how good his lips felt. Even better than she remembered.  
Natasha swallowed the startled sound he made, pushing her fingers up into his hair, cupping his head, and pulled him along as she began backing into the living room.

Stumbling along, Clint was too shocked to really react at first. His hands flailed, uncertain of what to do, but she didn't care. He would catch up. This was long overdue, after all.

Finding him in Russia, realizing he wasn't dead, it had been like a dream come true. Waking up, realizing he was going to die because of her; that had been her worst nightmare. She couldn’t lose him again. Whatever was left of her humanity would not survive that.

So, while Clint had been in the hospital, recovering little by little and day by day, Natasha had sworn not to waste the second chance she had been granted. By the time he was coming home, she was aching to touch him, reclaim every bit of him and mark him as her own.

Yes, she decided to regret something she did instead of lamenting something she didn't have the courage to do.  
Letting her hands slide down to grasp the front of his t-shirt, Natasha turned them both and then gave him a hard push. She watched as he bumped back into the sofa, lost balance and ended up on his behind on the soft cushions.  
She couldn't help the jab of arousal at the sight in front of her.

Clint was watching her somewhat wide-eyed, with his hands resting loosely by his sides and legs spread. "Nat...?" Confused, but not worried.

She didn't answer, didn't trust herself to, merely moved forward to straddle him and cupped his face again to pull him into another kiss.  
His hands flew up to hover uncertainly by her sides before they gently landed on her hips.

She felt his lips beginning to respond to hers, but still with hesitation, so Natasha rolled her hips against him.

That earned her a deep throated groan from the man under her. His fingers clenched briefly at her hips as a full-body shiver rippled through him.  
Yes, that was what she wanted!

Natasha was indulging herself by groping his magnificent shoulders when Clint suddenly broke the kiss and leaned back and away from her lips.  
Frowning confused, she tilted her head in a quizzical manner to him.

Clint licked his lips, slightly out of breath, before finding his voice. "What... what is going on, Nat?"

"I would think that was obvious," she replied smugly, then froze as a horrible thought struck her.  
What if he didn't want this? Had she really waited too long? Natasha swallowed hard, clenching down on her fear with lifelong experience. "Unless... you don't want...?"

To her horror, he seemed to consider it, but then a strong arm went behind her back and she was yanked close to his chest. A fierce grin appeared on Clint's face. "Hell yeah."

 

He had no idea why this was happening, but Clint wasn't about to question it. Not now. Not when she was warm and willing in his arms.  
_Why_ would have to wait. Something told him he probably wouldn't like the reason anyway.

Clint wasn't so naive to think Natasha would ever fall for him or that they would live happily ever after. The world didn't work that way, but he could at least have this.  
Something to treasure later, in the dark and the cold, when he was alone again.

The kisses resumed, now with both parties up to date on what was happening, and for a while he was satisfied with that. Clint even allowed his hands to go exploring.

Over the years they had seen each other naked and had their hands in most places, but this was the first time with lust in the air and everything felt different.  
Clint had seen Natasha play the seductress more times than he could count, but he never once thought she would be soft and pliant for him.  
But she was. Oh, she was. No matter that he could feel the glorious muscles, her skin was so soft and her lips yielded so willingly to his demands.

More kisses followed, hell, he could kiss her for years, but Natasha was growing increasingly restless against him and the friction soon had every drop of Clint's blood gathering below his belt. 

Eventually he couldn't take it anymore and slid his hands down to cup the most beautiful ass he'd ever had the fortune of seeing and got up, loving how Natasha didn't miss a beat and merely wrapped those killer legs around his waist.

Carrying her into the bedroom felt too natural for comfort, but Clint ignored the warning signs and merely followed as he laid Natasha down on the bed with her eagerly tugging him along.

She quickly yanked his shirt up and off and after that it became almost a race to undress the other quickest possible to have nothing but skin against skin. Hands caressing skin. Tongues trailing over skin.  
God, she was beautiful...

And between the sheets, he forgot all about Hawkeye and the Black Widow, instead it was all about Clint and Natasha.

 

Natasha had learned from a young age how to use sex. How to be good at it and how to exploit it to get what she wanted. It took her a hell of a lot longer to discover how to enjoy it.

Her missions often consisted of being the bait, making men want her and believe they could have her, but they were always wrong.  
She never mixed work with pleasure, which until now had included Clint. She had been afraid of losing him. She nearly had anyways but without him truly knowing how much she loved him. His feelings had always been clear to her, but she kept hers hidden, and he never reproached her for it. He always respected her boundaries.  
Now, as her back arched and her nails dug into his back, Natasha cursed herself for not breaking her own rules ages ago.

Clint shuddered hard as he pushed into her heat, his muscles straining and yet never losing control.  
She indulged herself for a moment and merely held on tight to his shoulders while he moved to send waves of pleasure through her body. 

It was rare Natasha allowed herself to simply feel. With Clint it was far too easy to forget what life had taught her. 

That thought snapped her out of her bliss and she quickly flipped them over for him to lie on his back and she sat up to continue moving them towards the conclusion.

She felt a flicker of satisfaction in addition to the pleasure when she saw the color had returned to Clint's face. His hands, strong and secure as always, had a good grip on her hips. His breathing, which had sounded so awful during those first days in the hospital, was now strained but healthy.  
Whatever had been in those apples, it had worked a miracle on the archer.

Natasha continued to move, aiming to continue the sweet torture until he found his peak, when Clint suddenly flipped them over again.

She blinked surprised, but not at all dismayed, especially when he put increasingly more strength behind his movements and his hands found her weak spots.  
And because this was Clint, her partner and best friend, the only person left whom she trusted, Natasha could actually close her eyes and enjoy it. 

She had wanted to make this all about him, about his pleasure, but Clint, ever the gentleman, was obviously not having that.

Stark thought those hands were only skilled at archery? Oh, how wrong he was!

 

Later, much later, Natasha found herself half-asleep with Clint curled up behind her. Wrapped up in his arms; she felt strangely comfortable with having crossed the one line she had set between them, but also with the fact that she was little-spooning. 

Never mind the fact that she didn’t do cuddling, Natasha rarely slept with anyone, she never ever turned her back to another person which lowered her defenses. Until now, it seemed.  
Logic and survival mode rebelled against what she was doing and yet her instincts and her body were completely at ease.  
Natasha felt safe.

But if she wanted a chance to keep this newfound thing, she knew she had a confession to make.  
“Clint…” 

“No,” he mumbled against her neck, tightening his grip around her almost stubbornly. “Not yet.”

Frowning, Natasha turned her face a little towards him. “What?”

“Not yet,” Clint repeated, refusing to lift his head to meet her gaze. “Just a little while longer. Just… give me a few more moments of this. Don’t tell me it was a mistake yet.” 

Startled, it took Natasha several seconds to process the words and to understand. Of course he would think this was a result of the trauma they’d both been through and that she would want to re-establish things back to how it had been between them. She didn’t do relationships, remember?

Squirming around, despite Clint’s half-hearted effort to keep her in place, Natasha did not relent until she was facing him and made him meet her eyes.  
It hurt her to see the soft resignation in him.  
Unable to find the right words to say, Natasha reached up and pulled him into a soft kiss instead.

After that, Clint pulled back a little, almost frowning, trying to read her face, and she let him. What he found there, it made his face light up with fragile hope.  
“Yeah?” He asked.

Natasha managed a faint smile, nervous like the girl she never go to be, and nodded. It was terrifying to lay herself bare like this, to become vulnerable, but it was worth it. For him. She wanted him.

Suddenly his happy expression was tainted by confusion and Clint shook his head a little. “Then… what was the bad news?”

“Bad news?”  
“I can always tell when you’re about to give me bad news,” Clint pointed out with dry humor. “You were about to tell me something I wouldn’t like…”

Oh. That.  
“At the hospital, you were dying. The doctors couldn’t help you; you were too far gone.” Natasha allowed a little of the Black Widow persona to take over, otherwise she wouldn’t have the courage to tell him, not now. “We had to use other means.”

“Other… means?”

“Magic,” Natasha clarified, hesitating only for the briefest of moments. “Thor brought some healing potion from his world.” She saw the unease in Clint already and delivered the fact that bothered her as well; “Loki was involved getting it. He said it was important that you stay alive.”

Predictably, the name alone made Clint tense up. He considered the words and went through an entire cycle of emotions before he landed on unsettled confusion. “Why?”

“He didn’t say.” Natasha placed her hand gently on his chest, felt the rapid thumping of his heart. “But I doubt he does anything without a reason.”

Clint leaned back into the pillows and pulled her with him, staring up at the ceiling. “If I start acting strange, do something out of character, you have to…”

“Stop,” Natasha ordered. “Don’t.” She placed her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat instead; a reassurance that he was indeed here and alive. “Loki is locked up. You’re alive. That’s what matters right now.”

 

Clint didn’t answer at first, but then his hand came up to gently stroke her hair and he let go of the tension in his body with a sigh. “Yeah…” They would deal with whatever came next when it became a problem.  
“So, this?” He eventually said, drawing fingertips over her shoulderblade. “This is for real?”

“If you want it,” Natasha replied.

Clint forced down the urge to spill his heart to her, declare his undying love for her, knowing she was nowhere near ready for that yet, but this was a start. This was more than he’d ever dared to dream for.  
“Yeah,” Clint admitted, quietly. “Yeah, I do.” He paused. “Why now?”

“Because I thought I’d lost you.” Natasha was growing tense against him, uncomfortable, but forcing herself to go answer, which basically told Clint everything he needed to know. She was pulling down the walls she had set up between them and it made him love her even more.

The idea of magic in his veins made his skin crawl and Clint knew the thought of Loki’s hand in this would haunt him with the fear of turning on his friends again, but with Nat in his arms, he was ready to face it.  
Whatever the future brought, Clint was nowhere ready to let go of what he had just been given. If Loki thought he could take this away from Clint, for whatever he was planning, he would be sorely disappointed.  
Hawkeye was ready to fight to the bitter end for this precious thing finally allowed to grow between him and Natasha.

-I love you, Clint spoke without words, hugging Nat even closer simply because he could.

-I feel the same. Always have, she replied without words, forming herself to his body and softly pressing her lips to his skin.

Oh yes, they would both fight for this and only a fool would challenge them.

-

_Years later..._

_Tony Stark nearly had a heart attack when there was an abrupt flash of light and someone he never expected to see again came stalking towards him._

_“Where is he?” Loki exclaimed, ignoring how the man was frantically back-paddling away from him. “Where is Barton?”_

_Tony then found himself backed up against the wall and a far too tall Loki (Had he always been ‘this’ tall?) was hovering over him with a manic look in his eyes. “Not here.” He wouldn’t admit to being afraid, but adrenaline was pumping like crazy and he was uncomfortably aware of all the windows Loki could throw him through. “Why are you? I thought you were supposed to be locked up. Or dead. Can’t remember which.”_

_Loki scoffed an annoyed sound._

_Now that Tony had a few seconds to gather himself after the shock appearance, he realized the other man was even paler than usual, bruised and… nervous? “Why? What do you want with Barton?”_

_“He’s coming,” Loki whispered, turning to glance at the window as if he expected to see the heavens open and unleash whatever he was talking about. Spinning back around, Loki glared down at Tony. “Where is Barton?!”_

_“I don’t know!” Tony exclaimed angrily. “He left with Rogers and the others after the jailbreak. He’s a wanted fugitive now! If I see him, I have to arrest him.”_

_Loki straightened, exasperated. “All our worlds might come to an end and you petty humans are focused on a stupid squabble?” He closed his eyes for a second, as if reigning in his temper, then focused on Tony again. “Find him. Now.”_

_“Give me one reason.”_

_“If not, we all die.”_

_Huh. That was almost persuasive…  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to every single one who took the time to support this fic! I would not have completed this without you!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BONUS CHAPTER!

**~He's watching us.~**

“Yeah. Middle building, right?”

**~Right.~**

Ever since eye patch man had approached them in the store, Eddie had been uncomfortably aware of someone following him around. Clearly the guy had connections and wasn't ready to give up getting his hands on the symbiote.

**~We could run up there and eat them, you know.~**

“I know.” Eddie kept walking, trying to act normal, just an average guy making his way down the street, heading back to his apartment. “But we're trying to keep a low profile, remember?”

**~Bah.~**

They were approaching a four month mark of co-existing since the explosion and Eddie had been quite busy trying to make the symbiote adjust for life on Earth. It wasn't easy teaching a carnivorous alien what was okay to eat and not, what he could touch and when, but they were making progress.  
“Hey, it's not like I enjoy being spied on.”

**~Who knows. You humans are weird.~**

“That's rich coming from someone who spent seven hours non-stop watching and drooling over Deadliest Catch yesterday.”

**~I wasn't the one who cried during Bondi Vet.~**

“They thought the dog was going to die, you dick.” Eddie came to an abrupt stop on the sidewalk. “Fine. You want to go up there? We'll go.”

**~Yessss.~**

 

“I swear, this got to be the most boring surveillance mission I've ever been on and considering my track record and enjoyment of generally keeping still; you know it's bad. And speaking of bad, if you thought the amount I can eat is impressive....” A brief pause as the other person on the phone answered. “I don't know. Fury said one month at least. How are things on your side? Yeah, I saw it on the news. And like I told you yesterday; say the word and I'm there. This mission might be pointless anyway with all the stuff going on.”

Only lightning quick reflexes lowering it prevented the black goo (appearing out of nowhere) from grabbing a hold of the cell phone. There was a loud thud as Venom landed heavily next to him on the roof and withdrew the black goo into its body again.

Clint Barton blinked wide eyed and lifted the phone to his ear again. “Nat, I gotta go. Talk to you later.” He hung up and shoved his phone into his pocket.  
That was the most teeth and the longest tongue he'd ever seen at the same time.

For a moment, they merely stared at each other, then there was a badly timed car crash down on the street and the sudden noise made Clint make a break for it and Venom shoot forward in chase.

Clint ran for his life, jumping and dodging as black slime tried to grab him, all the time knowing there was no way he'd be able to outrun his pursuer. He jumped over to the roof of the neighboring building, clearing some obstacles and moved down a couple of stories by jumping from one fire ladder to the next.  
The black monster dropped the same amount of stories in a single jump. It was like having fifty tons of sharp teeth and violence on your tail, determined to rip you to pieces.

Cursing quietly, Clint quickly pulled out his bow, unfolded it in a single shake and fired his grappling hook arrow up on to the roof of the building across the street. He was pulled away just as several black tendrils slammed into where he'd just been standing.

Back up on a roof, he didn't hesitate to start running again. He could hear the creature roaring angrily and slamming into the building he was currently on, after a jump that no one should have been able to make. (Except maybe Thor. Oh, and Cap!)  
“Shit, shit, shit,” Clint was looking around for some way to make his escape. How the hell had that thing managed to find him anyway? There was no way Clint had blown his cover. His ability to do surveillance from far away was the reason why Fury loved to send him on these missions.

Instinct saved him once again and Clint automatically dodged merely half a second before the massive being that seemed to be running on pure stubbornness hit the ground there.  
Drawing and shooting several arrows, each with different tips, Clint circled the beast and watched the effect they had; close to nothing other than to piss it off further.  
His quick reflexes saved him from any injuries as the oily mess tried to grab or impale him, but Clint knew all it would take was one wrong step and he'd be dead.

Finally. One of his arrows with a sound grenade tip made made the creature stagger backwards, letting out a sharp growl. So while it wasn't enough to stop it from going after him, at least that meant Clint had a fairly good idea how to keep it at bay. Fury had been right. The computers at the Life Foundation had not been set up on those frequencies by accident.  
A couple of clicks on the end of his bow had the sound techonology arrows ready and Clint was the one to charge for once.

Bombarding it with arrows exploding with different kinds of frequencies, he could see and hear the blackness twisting and screaming around a humanoid shape within it. This was definitely hurting it.

Clint was so focused on the strange sight that he didn't see the hand coming before it was too late. It grabbed a hold of his jacket, yanking him close, just a final arrow exploding caused the entire torso to be laid bare from the oil. The archer found himself staring at the man called Eddie Brock.  
Clint Barton: 1. Scary Space Goop: 0.  
Triumphant, Clint grinned widely to the one he'd been spying on for what had felt like a small eternity and who now had him in a firm grip. “Hah.”

“Hah.” Eddie countered in a deadpan voice. And promptly punched Clint in the face.

Ow.

 

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked, trembling with rage and ignoring the confused squint the blond guy sent him behind the hands clutching his bleeding (hopefully broken) nose.

**~His pancreas is going to taste so good!~**

“I'm interpreting that as a 'yes'.” Eddie said, relieved to feel the symbiote starting to climb up his body again, covering everything except his head. And he could finally turn his attention to the one in his grip, the one responsible for hurting Venom. “But I want to hear why this guy is spying on us.” And then punch him a couple of times more.

The archer's words were mumbled behind his hands. “You dnow talking to yourselb is a very bad sigdn?”

Eddie had to smile when the guy's eyes widened at the sight of Venom's head rising from Eddie's shoulder and how it hovered with an angry snarl and more saliva than strictly needed.

Lowering the hands, the blond swallowed hard. “Please don't eat me. I'm on a really bad diet. I'd probably just clog up your arteries anyway.”

**”I say we take our chances.”**

“Two against one isn't fair,” the stranger pointed out.

“Why are you spying on us?” Eddie asked.

“I'm Clint.”

“Eddie. Venom. But you know that. Why are you spying on us? And this is your last chance to answer.”  
Venom opened its maw, showing off rows of sharp teeth, tongue and how nicely Clint's skull would fit in there.

Making a face, clearly disturbed at the sight and possibly a little intrigued against his will, the archer shifted his focus to Eddie. “I'm here to make sure you and your, uh, friend there don't do anything... stupid.”

**”Spying on us is stupid."** Venom reached out and let its tongue run up Clint's neck.

Eddie frowned thoughtfully. “That eye patch guy sent you, didn't he? What's his deal?”

Doing his best to discretely lean away from the tongue, Clint cleared his throat. “What's the deal about claiming your buddy here was dead?”

**”Definitely have to eat him, Eddie. Can't have him tell anyone.”**

“Definitely don't have to do that,” Clint countered. “So much salt in me. So much.”

Eddie shook his head, frustrated. “Shut up, the both of you.”  
Venom made an offended hiss and turned his glare on Eddie, who ignored him.

“Listen,” the arched said. “Things are changing. It's not more than a couple of years ago I fought against aliens coming through a space gate in New York City and judging by the arrival of your friend; there's a whole lot more of them up there and maybe more already here. We just need to know who's on our side and who's not.”

Eddie snorted a laugh, measuring the blond. “You're an Avenger? Seriously?”

“Let's just say I'm someone who has a problem with people being eaten.”

**”Pussy.”**

Clint raised his eyebrows at Eddie as if scolding the parent of a child who had just used bad language.

To his annoyance, Eddie flushed a little. “You've been spying on us. You know we don't run around eating people.”

“Yet.” Clint stated seriously.

**”Yet.”** Venom agreed hopefully.

Not sure why the hell he was defending them in front of a stranger who had no business with what Eddie Brock did, Eddie still felt strangely reluctant to just have Venom kill him like he'd done with the threats in the past. “So, what? We're just going to have to be okay with having someone watch our every move? And I'm not going to give him up, so you can forget about that.”  
For some reason, it felt like the symbiote tightened its grip on Eddie.

Clint winked. “Don't worry. I think we have what we need.”

“What you...” Eddie began, but then there was a loud bang and an agonizingly bright light. By the time he and Venom both had recovered, no more than ten seconds later, the archer was gone.

**”We could track him down.”**

Eddie made a thoughtful sound, absently rubbing the knuckles which had connected with the guy's face, before reaching up and running his hand gently over Venom's neck. “Nah.” He turned to enter the door leading off the roof and into the building. “Something tells me that guy is off our backs.”

**”Let's jump, why take the stupid stairs?”**

“Good cardio.”

**”It's not even that high. Still a giant pussy."**

“You just lost one hour of TV privileges. Keep it up and you'll lose more.”

**”WHAT?!”**

 

Clint crouched down on the roof, waiting for his call to be put through, watching as Eddie disappeared down the street. Once he heard the confirming click, he began to speak; “Hawkeye here. Confirmed sighting of the alien. It's still alive and merged with Eddie Brock. What do you want me to do?” He waited for the reply, then; “Okay. Roger that. Good luck. Going dark.”  
Ending the call, Clint made sure to destroy the SIM card and got ready to disappear from the world for a while. Things were about to change even more.

It was three months after that, when Eddie entered his apartment and discovered the guy with the eye patch, now wearing sunglasses instead.  
“Eddie Brock. I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah... it is almost time for the fic I teased you guys about at the end of chapter 10! So now Clint has to deal with Venom as well as Loki and Thanos. The poor guy can never catch a break! Good thing he has his Nat to help him.  
> I'm shamelessly dragging all my Marvel fics into one and if you guys wanna be along for the Clintasha, I hope to see you there!
> 
> If you want to read the Venom background story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16234256/chapters/37950257  
> And if, bless you, you are brave enough to challenge the Guardians of the Galaxy series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/149667

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to all my fellow Clintasha fans out there. I hope to hear from you!


End file.
